


let's go far away

by curiouslyfic



Category: Gay Pirates (song)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide 2011, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslyfic/pseuds/curiouslyfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It comes up while you’re off on some blighted pillage, nothing but a rusty hook and your wits to see you back safe to the ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's go far away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinky_kneazle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/gifts).



> For you, Kneazle, the AU where they escape. Merriest of Yuletides. ♥

It comes up while you’re off on some blighted pillage, nothing but a rusty hook and your wits to see you back safe to the ship. There’s smoke everywhere because the First Mate likes setting fires and there’s screaming everywhere because your crewmates are insane and really, it’s the nearest thing to hell you can imagine without actually being on that ship.

You bloody _hate_ that ship. You have your reasons.

You’re stumbling down some alley with just your hook and your wits, quite possibly bleeding from the head because the locals aren’t exactly happy that you’re there, and you half-think the idea here is to be captured, tried, and hung. At least you’d be off the bloody ship. You’re not nearly too proud to say it appeals.

Then you hear the one thing that keeps you drudging on, and you curse yourself and this _fascination_ as you place Sebastian’s voice.  
You’re quite sure he’s the only reason you’re still alive. You try not to think about your reasons while you’re near the crew.

Sebastian’s face comes through the smoke and you’re arsed off in a moment because he’s bleeding, too, but he’s grinning through it and reaching for your hand. “Come on,” he says impatiently—well, impatiently for him—and you slide your hand in his because you don’t get to touch him near enough.

Then he’s leading you off. Of course you follow; you don’t even question that you will.

A village caught mid-sacking is complete chaos, all angry locals and screaming women, babies squawling from their houses and animals breaking loose, all of it on account of your idiot crewmates running about armed. You’re only a bloody pirate because you’ve been gang-pressed into service but honestly, your _luck_. Thickest crew on the Spanish Main and they’re all in charge of you.

You’re fairly sure Longbones is going to shoot himself with his own pistol. You’re equally sure he won’t be missed.

Sebastian tugs you down the alley and presses you against a wall. You stop when he does and stick as close as you can, less because you think it might stop you being run through or shot or something than because it’s _Sebastian_ budged up against you. For as often as you get this, you’re not moving for a thing.

He cranes his neck to peer as though he can see through the smoke. You’ll grant him extraordinary powers of survival but you can’t see a thing and you highly doubt he can, either. When you try to tug him close so _he_ isn’t run through or shot or something, he turns back and shakes his head.

“Not now,” he whispers. “We have to go.”

Sebastian, you think, has finally snapped. That should likely worry you more than it does. Instead, it fills you with a wild sort of joy, because if the last sane thing about your life has gone over the edge, there is absolutely no reason you can’t, too.

All the things you really want are wild. Reckless or ridiculous, quite often a bit of both. You want to share a bunk with him, wake up with him each morning, hold his hand when you please. You want to kiss him when you take the fancy and kiss all of his scars. You want more than anything to feel him under you, to hear him say your name.

It’s been absolute ages since anyone’s done that. You think Sebastian would.

And if Sebastian thinks you’re leaving, which they will kill you for when they find you, you think maybe there’s no sense in holding back.

Sebastian stiffens a bit when you wrap your arms around him but he looks back again and laughs, smiles at you shy and sweet, the way he only ever does when you’re alone. You set your chin on his shoulder and steal a kiss to his neck, just a quick press of your mouth to the salty skin beneath his ear. When you look up again, he’s gone soft on you, lip-bitingly amused.

“You’re incorrigible,” Sebastian says, as though _you_ ’re the problem. Then his face firms with resolve. “Come on, handsy. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” His eyes shift in the light; you think he’s looking you over heatedly. You really hope he is. “Then we’ll see about the rest.”

And when you see the eyebrow he’s arched at you, you don’t care a bit that you have no clue what he means.

Sebastian has a plan, you realize, and it’s probably a good one. He’s too good at reading the world to do any less, not when your whole crew would see you dead in an instant if they find you’ve run off somewhere. You don’t realize at first that’s what he’s doing but he keeps his hand in yours and leads you out of town, off into the woods where the air smells cleaner than it has and where, you realize giddily, you’re alone on solid land.

It’s the first time you’ve been able to really say that in longer than you care to remember and you feel weak with relief. You want to stop and catch your breath a bit, really _enjoy_ it, but Sebastian keeps you moving. Once he’s forced to swat branches and brush out of his way, he stops looking back but he never really lets go of your hand.

It takes ages longer than it should do for you to realize you have no clue where you are, no means to defend yourself because you’ve lost your rusty hook somewhere and not a shilling to your name. The woods are darker with every step you take and they fill with foreign sounds, unknown predators and prey; you can’t help wondering what’s hiding out there waiting to make you dinner and you hate that Sebastian’s going first.

You will absolutely become unhinged if anything happens to him. It’s been ages since you’ve thought anything else.

You want to ask where you’re going or how he seems to have a route prepared but you don’t, mostly because you’re both moving so swiftly now you’re afraid you’ll lack breath for the words. You want to ask what he thinks will happen next, how long he thinks it’s going to take your crew to find you. They’re petty and vengeful and horrid, quite easily the most degenerate lot you can imagine, and you’re sure they torture you for fun as it is. All this is going to do is make them worse, though if it gets you an hour with him somewhere peaceful, you’ll consider it a price well-paid.

You have no idea how long he keeps you walking but you know you match his pace.

Then he’s slowing down considerably and turning back with a bright and hopeful smile and you see a ship in the distance off the cliffs you’ve climbed, a full moon hanging bright and dangerous over the sea, but you’re besotted and all you really see is him.

“This it, then?” you ask, feigning a look about while you lick your lips and fight the urge to smile back. “This where we’re going?”

Sebastian huffs a sigh and says your name again. You love the sound of it. “How’d you feel about changing ships?”

You don’t mean to insult him but you can’t keep your skepticism off your face. You make him laugh again, quiet and honest. “Is that a thing people do?”

He nods, resolute. “All the time, actually. Every chance they can.” You’ve been on that bloody wreck at least a year—longer, probably—and you’ve never seen anyone leave unless they’ve died. Though you have, you realize, seen your ship lose crew in a pillage. You’ve always thought that the locals getting lucky, undoubtedly aided by your crew’s inability to be anything but pillocks, but standing here, you begin to believe you’ve been mistaken, at least about a few.

The thought that there might actually be something in your life that isn’t crewing the worst ship in the Spanish Main is almost too much to believe.

You only do because Sebastian’s smirking at you now, obviously waiting for you to catch on.

“They’ll think we’ve died,” he says. “Last anyone saw me, I was being dragged into the tavern and to be honest, you were asking for it in your alley with your hook. They won’t even think twice about it. They certainly won’t come looking.”

“So what’s the plan, then?” you ask but you don’t care, really, you’d stand up here forever just watching him smirking at you in the moonlight, the sights and scents of freedom all around you. “Stay up here, hunt things, maybe build ourselves a shack?”

“If you like,” he says and he’s laughing a little, you can hear it in his voice. He sneaks a look over his shoulder to the ship and sea below, looks back at you with mischief in his eyes. “Or I was thinking we might try our luck with them.”

You’re not keen on it because you’ve been fuck-miserable at sea but he looks excited and you know you won’t let him leave alone. You want to ask what’s so special about the ship he’s found but you don’t; the very last thing you want just now is to think about what you’ve both just possibly left behind and for as bad as you’ve had it on that wretched tub, you know he’s had it worse for longer.

He amazes you all the time.

“I’ve heard things,” he murmurs quietly, conspiratorially though you’re sure you’re alone up here. “Things about their captain.” You cannot help the way your eyebrow creeps up your forehead. “And the man who shares his bunk.” You feel yourself stop breathing while you try to think that over; the unrelenting bastard who’s captained you since they’d stolen you from your job near the docks has done the same but he’s done it with _Sebastian_ and you can’t think why either one of you would want to deal with that again. Sebastian’s nearly shivering when he says, “I’ve heard they don’t share.”

That takes another breathless moment still, because you think it’s you who’d lose the chance to touch. Then you realize what he means.

He must be waiting for it, must be watching your face carefully, because straight on the heels of that revelation comes his brightest, widest smile. “Would you come with me, if I went?”

You nod oh-so-carefully, unable and unwilling to look away from him. “I would,” you say and your forehead furrows because you’re sure those words aren’t enough. “Anywhere. You know that.”

That look on his face now, that’s one you’ve only ever seen when you’ve kissed him for a while, sweet and hot and dazed, nearly overwhelmed. You know that look so well because you wear it all the time. “We can wait,” he says, staring at you like you’re all his Christmases come early. “It’s not…We could catch up with them later, if you want. Take a bit of time for ourselves first?”

You’ve never been a sailor, not really, but you know Sebastian is, so if he’s offering this concession, he’s doing it for you. From there, the kissing is inevitable.

You’re a bit surprised it’s taken you this long to start.

His mouth opens for you at the first touch of your lips and you get both hands up to hold his face between your palms so you can take your time. He’s so close already and he shifts closer still, hard and warm against your front, an anchor in the breeze. It’s no time at all before he’s got his arms around your neck and he’s wriggling for you like he means to climb you like a mast; you can’t help smiling a little because you’ve always liked the look of him but you liked that look first, him shimmying his way up, all legs and arse and hidden strength.

It’s not so hidden from you now. You know he could manhandle you rather easily because you’ve seen him do it, that he could pin your wrists against a rail and push a thigh between your legs just to tease you and that all you’d do is groan and curse for him, turn your face towards his and maybe lip at his jawline while you’ve got your wits about you. He’s slipped in behind you while you’re out on watch, snuck a hand down your trousers and whispered filthy in your ear; he’s led you off to bathe in secret pools and waterfalls, kissed you places even whores avoid. He’s done things to you you couldn’t ever have expected before you’d been gang-pressed and what’s more telling, you’ve done near as much to him.

Just about the only thing you haven’t tried involves your bunk.

Just now, you think, you want him over you, his prick in your hand and yours in his, both of you moving together without worrying about perverts for once. There are so many things about your ship that have kept you circumspect and out here, none of them apply.

You’ll get there, you think, and you’ll likely get there soon, just as you’re sure you’ll be inside him before much longer. He makes the sweetest sounds when you touch him there, says your name deliciously when you slip one wet finger in and arches up for you when you nudge there with your cock. The first time you’d fucked him, he’d draped his arms around your neck and turned his face into your throat, breathed damp and heavy against your collar and shivered-shuddered just for you the whole time. You don’t think that’s what he was after when he’d asked to have you face-to-face but you’re glad that’s how things worked out.

There is nothing in the world you like as much as the feel of Sebastian shiver-shuddering in your arms. You think—while you’re kissing him, so with what little thought you can spare—you _think_ you’ll have that soon, that one of you will ease the other back and there’ll be shirts shucked along the way, that you’ll get to touch him carefully and that you’ll get to take your time. That maybe this is the night you get to sleep with him after, only just _sleep_ and that you’ll maybe wake with him still wrapped around you right where he should be.

But first you get to kiss him, as long and slow and teasing as you like, and to be honest, you can’t much bring yourself to worry about what comes next.

~f~


End file.
